Apolitical Intellectuals

They will be askedwhat they didwhen their nation died outslowly,like a sweet firesmall and alone.

No one will ask themabout their dress,their long siestasafter lunch,no one will want to knowabout their sterile combatswith "the ideaof the nothing"no one will care abouttheir higher financial learning.

They won't be questionedon Greek mythology,or regarding their self-disgustwhen someone within thembegins to diethe coward's death.

They'll be asked nothingabout their absurdjustifications,born in the shadowof the total lie.

On that daythe simple men will come.

Those who had no placein the books and poemsof the apolitical intellectuals,but daily deliveredtheir bread and milk,their tortillas and eggs,those who drove their cars,who cared for their dogs and gardensand worked for them,and they'll ask:

"What did you do when the poorsuffered, when tendernessand lifeburned out of them?"

Apolitical intellectualsof my sweet country,you will not be able to answer.